That same evening, before returning home, you lingered a little longer than usual at the institute. The air was still charged with the day's confused energy: distant laughter in the hallways, the sound of chairs being dragged, the last remaining lights still on in the classrooms. You stopped to exchange a few words with your colleagues, but above all to help the Class 1A students understand where they'd gone wrong, why they'd failed to complete the mission. Their disappointed expressions struck you more than the explanations themselves.
It was almost dinner time when, during a coffee break during the meeting, you decided to step out for a moment to pick up some papers left in the staff room. The school, at that hour, seemed almost different: the hallways were quieter, the doors ajar, and the teachers' muffled voices were distant. The papers you were looking for were the ones Aizawa had been working on until late afternoon, updating them with his usual meticulousness and adding new points for you all to discuss together. You'd seen them in his hand just a few hours earlier, as he calmly explained, as if everything was simple to understand.
Walking down the corridor, the fabric of your heroine uniform rustled slightly against your thighs. It was an outfit that accentuated your figure, and one that Katsuki had once regarded with a certain pride, almost as if it were an achievement of his. Now, however, he didn't even seem to notice.
You noticed him leaning against the vending machine, right next to the closet. One hand shoved in his pocket, the other supporting his forehead as his head hung slightly forward. A tired look weighed on his shoulders, as if someone had extinguished his usual inner flame, leaving only embers.
He'd been distancing himself for days. First from you. Then, slowly, from the rest of the group too. It wasn't like him. Katsuki had never been one to isolate himself. He fought, he screamed, he asserted himself. Always. Seeing him like this... quiet, almost fragile, was something you never thought you'd have to face.
You stopped a few steps away, unnoticed. You could have called out to him. You could have pretended to be passing by. But your relationship had been strained for some time, and you didn't want to tread on spaces that perhaps no longer belonged to you.
You weren't sure if the right thing to do was to approach him… or to keep going, turning your back on him once again.
He wasn't expecting you at that moment. Or at least, that's what he wanted you to believe. When the sharp sound of your boots echoed in the hallway, Katsuki barely looked up. Just for an instant, the blink of an eye. Then he looked down again, as if he hadn't noticed. As if you'd become invisible.
Yet the fist gripping the coffee can trembled. A small tremor, imperceptible to the untrained eye. But you knew it too well not to see it.
You felt his gaze slowly travel up the line of your back, lingering on the curve of your shoulders, the firm outline of your posture. It wasn't just nostalgia. It was suppressed hunger. Regret. A desire that tried not to be voiced.
You continued walking, your breath a little shorter, unsure why. You could have turned around. But the space between you was made of thin glass, and touching it meant risking everything shattering.
It was just then that a voice rang out behind you.
"Sensei, where are you going?" Uraraka appeared running, panting, clutching some crumpled notebooks. Her large eyes stared at you with sincere innocence.
You turned to her… but, for a second longer, Katsuki's eyes remained locked with yours. Just a second.
"I'm… going to get some documents," you replied, in a tone you hoped was neutral.
Katsuki didn't say anything. But the way he clenched his jaw spoke volumes.
Katsuki didn't speak.
He didn't even take a step in your direction. He simply followed you with his gaze as you walked away down the corridor with Uraraka. Your every movement was controlled, composed...but your shoulders were tense, as if you were holding your breath.
You tried to focus on the girl's words, on the reason she'd come looking for you, on those notebooks she needed to deliver. But your mind was stuck behind, next to that vending machine, in that suspended silence.
As you spoke to her, a few meters away, a sharp sound echoed in the air.
PSSHHH—CRACK.
You turned around abruptly.
The can in Katsuki's hands had exploded. Not violently, not like one of his blows... but enough to send a line of hot coffee spilling down his fingers, enough to show the force with which he'd gripped it. The foam dripped down the back of his hand, slow and dark. He remained still, his head tilted slightly forward, his brows knitted in an expression too silent to be anger and too vivid to be indifference.
It was something that resembled pain.
Uraraka jumped.
"K-Kacchan? Is everything okay…?" Her voice trailed off on its own, unfinished.
Because he looked up. Not at her, but at you.
His red eyes struck you like a sharp tear.
You forgot everything the moment you returned to the teachers' lounge. Or at least, that's what you tried to do.
You sat down, picked up your papers, followed the thread of the discussions... but your mind kept returning to the sound of the exploding can. To the way Katsuki had looked at you.
At the shadow that had passed over his eyes. You tried to chase it away like you'd chase a raindrop from your face.
When the meeting finally ended, exhaustion suddenly hit you. Your shoulders felt sore, your legs a little heavy. And, damn it, you were hungry. Really hungry. If anyone else had been there, maybe you would have exchanged a few words. But there was no one. The UA was quiet at that hour, almost asleep.
You knew Mirio had finished his shift a while ago.
And you also knew what awaited you at home.
The key turned in the lock with the same familiar little click, and before you even opened the door fully, you heard laughter, the ringing, full, clear one. A young voice, and a deeper, stronger, reassuring one.
You entered the living room and found them there. As always.
Mirio, sitting on the floor next to the sofa, his torso leaning slightly forward, a wide, bright smile lighting up his eyes. And your son, Ryota, perched on his shoulders like a victorious little koala, his little hands clutching the young hero's shirt.
"Mom, welcome back!" Mirio exclaimed as soon as he saw you. That smile of his... that perfectly sincere smile... came to you before he even spoke.
"Hi, love," you said, with that calmness that always seemed capable of easing any tension.
The knot in your stomach loosened. It didn't disappear, but it loosened.
Katsuki remained a shadow in the back of your thoughts.
Mirio, on the other hand, was reality. Warmth. Presence. Home.
They both turned to you, beautiful as the sun after a long day.
Mirio stood up calmly, still with Ryota hanging from his shoulder like a conquered trophy. He approached you without hesitation, as if your return were the most natural and anticipated thing in the world. His warm hand rested on your cheek, his thumb brushing the skin with an almost studied delicacy, and his lips sought yours in a sexy, deep, hungry kiss. Then he pushed his tongue inside, and your panties were slightly wet.
Ryota, meanwhile, began waving his little hands at you, swollen with impatience. "Ma-ma!" he called, his tone imperious and adorable at the same time.
His little red eyes stared at you with a challenge all their own, as if he already believed he could rule the world with a glance. His blond hair was an absolute mess, disheveled as if he'd just fought a tornado (or Mirio, which was basically the same thing). When he smiled, those little dimples in his cheeks became deep, sweet, and irresistible. You had to laugh, because really, looking at him closely, it seemed like he hadn't taken anything from you.
And then you remembered that certain things aren't inherited by blood.
You held Ryota in your arms until his breathing became slow, even. His long eyelashes fluttered a few times, then his little head rested against your chest. You laid him down in his crib, a light blanket over his shoulders, as the room fell silent, broken only by your laughter and hushed chatter.
"Class was fantastic today!"
You exclaimed, dropping your back onto the carpet, your head resting on Mirio's thighs. A sigh of satisfaction escaped your lips. "I had so much fun showing off my quirk in front of the 1-A students. They were so happy today... it seemed like everything was lighter."
Mirio looked down at you with a smile that seemed incomprehensible to words. His fingers began to run through your hair, slowly, carefully, as if he were studying each strand with the care of someone who takes nothing for granted.
"Next time, call me," he said, with that luminous tone that was natural to him. "How could I have lost the sexiest sensei on the planet in her heroine uniform?"
You looked up at him, and a laugh escaped you spontaneously, genuinely. You sat up, almost in one fluid motion, and straddled his lap, slipping your arms around his shoulders.
"Silly," you muttered, but the smile on your face was anything but stern.
You leaned down and placed your lips on his neck, a light kiss, where the skin was warm and alive beneath yours. He inhaled slowly, one hand wrapping around your back, the other resting on your waist, as if reminding himself not to hold you too tightly.
"You know... I wanted to tell you something else." Your voice changed, becoming more measured. As you spoke, you moved away slightly, just enough to look him in the eye. Your arms remained around his shoulders, but not to play. To seek support.
"I've noticed Katsuki hasn't been feeling very well these days. I don't know why..."
Mirio didn't stop touching your hair. His touch remained constant, calm.
"What do you mean?" he asked. Without judgment. Without suspicion. He just wanted to listen to you.
You inhaled slowly, one of those breaths that bring with them things you don't want to say.
"He seems down," you continued. "He's also been quite distant from his classmates. Today I saw him alone, in the hallway. He was…" You searched for the word. "Off. And that's not like him."
Mirio didn't try to downplay it. He didn't laugh, he didn't comment. He simply nodded, giving you space to continue.
"I wanted to talk to him," you admitted. "But I thought it was best not to... reopen things. Not there. Not now."
Silence. Mirio looked you in the eye, truly. You felt him see beyond words.
"Are you worried about him?" He asked, without a hint of jealousy. He was truly curious to understand, and he would do anything to make you happy.
You nodded. "I can't pretend nothing's happening. He's still my son's father..."
He nodded, understanding the situation perfectly. "Then, have him come here and try to talk to him. If you want, I'll leave and come back later."
"No, no. Let's avoid it. I'm tired today, maybe another day."
He nodded again and smiled at you. The scent of his sex lingered in the air, mingling with desire and that musky scent Mirio always left on you whenever you touched his hair. You licked your lips as he pulled you even closer. His hard, ready cock was already rubbing against your skin, and his mouth was already on your neck, hungry.
He was beneath you, his blond hair messy and his blue eyes shining with lust. He turned toward you, and suddenly a mischievous smile appeared on his face, curving his lips upward as he ran a hand over your ample breasts. "So, Tara-sensei..." he began, his voice low and husky. "I'd like to know why... you're not wearing panties right now."
You looked at him with your head cocked to the side, surprised by his strange question. Before you could even think or respond, you were on top of him, straddling him, your thighs gripping him like a vice. There were no caresses, no tender kisses. You undressed him from above, removing his shirt and quickly sliding it over his head, while your lips crashed against his, your tongue slipping into his mouth with a hunger that was almost desperation. He responded with the same desire, the same urgency, his hands sliding under your shirt, finding your bare skin, warm and alive. His fingers dug into your hips, still marked by the lines of pregnancy, and you moaned against his mouth with a deep groan.
Then, without warning, you pulled away from him and looked up at him, your eyes shining with a desire bordering on madness. With a swift movement, you lifted your skirt, revealing what was underneath: nothing. Just your pussy, already wet and throbbing, its lips swollen and moist with arousal. Your clit protruded like a little red button. You made Mirio's head spin, so much so that he was completely lost in your eyes.
"Mirio...lick me," you whispered.
With a long, muffled groan, he stood up and slid off the couch, ending up on his knees on the carpet, his knees warm in the soft wool. His hands gripped your thighs, while his fingers dug into your soft flesh, and in half a second his mouth was on you, you felt his tongue extending to lick from bottom to top, savoring every inch of that wet pussy of yours. You gasped, your fingers tangling in Mirio's hair, pulling his head toward you. "Lick, lick me, Mirio..." You gasped, and his tongue began to trace circles around your clit.
Mirio buried his face between your thighs, his nose pressed against your moist lips, inhaling your scent as if it were oxygen. His tongue became more insistent, faster, while your fingers tightened around his hair, guiding him, forcing him to give you exactly what you wanted.
"Mirio, lick me…more! Like you're hungry…" you whispered, your voice shaking. He obeyed, his tongue lengthening further and further, growing stiffer, penetrating you with quick, deep strokes, while his lips closed around your clit, sucking with a force that made your back arch. A moan escaped you, high-pitched, desperate, and for a moment you both froze, eyes wide, listening. Ryota. You heard nothing, so Mirio attacked again, even more ravenous than before.
His lips closed around your clit, sucking with steady pressure as two fingers plunged inside you. Your nails scraped his scalp as he penetrated you with his fingers and his thumb pressed against your ass.
"I'm going to…fuck, Mirio, I'm going to cum!" You moaned, sobbing. He didn't stop. Your back arched, your body tensing like a violin string, and then you exploded, an orgasm that overwhelmed you with such force that it made you stop breathing for a moment. Mirio felt your pussy contract under his fingers, felt the heat of your pleasure…and then, gush. A sudden, hot gush flooded his mouth, dripping down his neck and staining his jeans. Your body emptied in uncontrollable waves, your muscles contracting spasmodically as he continued to lick you, drinking every drop of you, as if it were the water of life.
When he pulled away, your breathing was a rattle, your chest rising and falling with the heaviness, your skin glistening with sweat. Mirio licked his lips, savoring the salty, sweet taste of your pussy, his eyes devouring you with so much desire. But he wasn't finished yet, you could see it in his eyes.